closet I assume Roadrunner thought led to my room. That was for the better. He seemed ill at ease about the state of our run-down place as it were, no need for him to blow up over me sleeping on the couch. And I knew he would blow up if he found out.
There wasn’t much besides the essentials and Emmy’s toys, so it was no problem getting everything boxed with time to spare. Which was good, seeing as packing wasn’t all I needed to accomplish before Roadrunner got back.
First, I had to take a trip down the hall to Jasmine’s. She was the only real friend I had and she was like an aunt to Emmy. She deserved more than a call to explain we were mysteriously taking off.
Jasmine knew all about my life before we moved in down the hall. Back before her mother’s health had gone south—Parkinson’s—she’d watched Emmy one evening so Jasmine and I could have a girls night. With loose lips granted by the grace of vodka, she’d gotten me to spill all—from growing up with the club to losing my dad to everything that had happened in between and since. It didn’t take long to make her understand why we were going.
She had just one concern. “They’ll keep you both safe?”
“Yes.” My answer was firm. Any reservations I had about it all aside, I knew the Disciples would protect us.
“So,” she’d said, her eyes alight. I knew what was coming. “You’re going to see him again. Gabe.”
“Yeah.” And the thought had made my stomach churn.
“Are you ready for that?”
No. Never. It wasn’t possible to be ready for that.
“It was a long time ago. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
She gave me a droll look. “Mmhmm. Keep tellin’ yourself that.”
I would. I was going to keep telling myself that until I started believing for a second it was true.
After goodbyes with Jasmine, I had to call the diner. I hated to put them in a bind by leaving without notice, but there was nothing to be done. Using the guise of a family emergency, I explained I had to leave town immediately and couldn’t say when I’d be back. Obviously, they were forced to let me go. Not surprising, but it still stung. Eventually, Emmy and I would be returning home, and what was I going to do about work when that time came?
I filed that concern away in the ever-increasing pile of crap I couldn’t face at the moment. There was no way to get around the circumstances, so there was no point in dwelling. When the time came, I would figure it out. I always had. I was a survivor.
A booming knock came at the door a moment before it swung open. Roadrunner stood there, his eyes assessing the boxes scattered in the living room. I’d given him my spare set of keys before he left last night so he could let himself in.
His eyes came to me. “All set?”
In terms of practicality, yes. Though, that said nothing for my emotional preparations. Still, I gave him a nod.
“Good deal,” he said. “Got a buddy from Mayhem downstairs to help load the truck.” He gave another glance around. “Not sure he’s needed, though. Sure this is everything you want to bring?”
It was my turn to inspect the space. Seeing as the few boxes sitting around us held nearly everything we owned besides the furniture, I was pretty sure. “Yeah, this is it.”
With the help of Vic, Roadrunner’s friend from the Mayhem Bringers, the boxes were loaded up in less than twenty minutes. Seeing as I found it extremely unlikely my hunk of junk would make the two hour drive, it wasn’t hard for Roadrunner to convince me to leave it behind. I transferred Emmy’s car seat from it to Roadrunner’s truck and we took off.
About an hour outside of Portland, Emmy was out cold. Something about the motion of a car always knocked my girl out quickly enough, which was fine by me. I wasn’t sure I had it in me to feign excitement for her. She saw this as an adventure; I saw it as us driving straight to hell.
Another hour passed in relative silence aside from the music Roadrunner